Cross My Palm
by Comic-cake
Summary: A little one shot Rogan that wouldn’t stop swirling around in my head...


Stealing one of Logan's beers sounds like an excellent idea…

I've been tossing and turning for hours, getting myself all flustered and tangled up in the bed sheets. It's some deep hour of the night and I sigh as I clamber out of bed, finally giving up on sleep, padding softly across the room and heading downstairs. My hair is tussled wildly and I'm covered from head to toe in a long flowing nightgown, my usual bedtime attire.

I can only attribute my acquired taste for beer to Logan and it's something that has stuck with me long after his borrowed powers faded. The crisp, slightly bitter flavour of a Molson is so welcoming and I love the numbing effect it has. Most evenings I ignore the desire, but sometimes, when a girl can't sleep, there's nothing more satisfying. It's just what I need right now.

There's no one around. Well, no one except that kid who changes the television channel with a blink of an eye. Apparently, he never sleeps. Can you imagine how much you could accomplish in life if you never had to sleep? An extra eight hours of free time every day?

As my mind races with inventive ways to fill those hours, I open the fridge, seeing the beers lined up with military precision, each with glistening condensation dripping deliciously down the glass bottle.

A wave of pleasure runs through me. Not for the beers you understand. No, the delight comes from what the presence of those beers signifies, a warm reminder that he's here. Logan's here. And no one ever touches those beers, no one dare, except me of course. I'm the only one he doesn't get pissy with when I help myself.

I reach for a bottle, choosing a random one from the centre of the line-up, opening it with a fizz. Leaning my back against the fridge I close my eyes, enjoying the familiar flavour connecting with my taste buds and slipping icily down my throat.

"Hey kid."

My eyes snap open as I gulp down the liquid and the sight of him causes a rush of heat to ripple through me. He fills the doorway, his eyes glinting darkly, his hair exceptionally wild and feral, more so than usual. In his battered leather jacket and tight bulging jeans, I have to concentrate to stop myself melting onto the floor where I stand.

"Hey," I reply, as casually as I can manage, "Hope you don't mind," I lift the bottle indicating the beer.

He smiles, "As long as it isn't the last one darlin'."

I reach into the fridge to pull out another, cracking it open and holding it out to him. He strides across the kitchen, strong powerful steps, his fingers brushing mine as he takes the drink from me and a spark of electricity tingles as we touch. And that's not down to my mutation. I admit I haven't fully mastered control of my skin yet, but I'm making improvements and right now, my mutation is switched off. No, that was a pure spark of something else…

_Did he feel that? _

He leans casually against the kitchen table facing me squarely, only an arms reach away and the heady scent of his leather jacket fills my lungs.

"Can't sleep?" he asks.

I shake my head in response, wishing I'd at least have combed my hair, I know it's falling wildly round my shoulders.

He lifts his beer to his lips, taking a deep gulp and I stare at him. Does he know how much I love these moments, when it's just the two of us?

"So," he starts, "What have you been up to today, apart from thieving my beers?"

"Nothing much. Jubes and I went down to the old fairground," I answer, "We even braved that rickety old roller coaster."

It's Saturday, and for once, Jubilee had wanted to do something other than shopping.

"Right," is his response of acknowledgement before he takes another swig of his beer.

"Oh, and I had my fortune told by a creepy old lady," I add as an after thought.

"Really?" he hitches his eyebrow, "You don't believe all that stuff do you?"

Damn, how can one eyebrow cause those flutters in my stomach?

"Maybe, maybe not," I answer.

He chomps down on a cigar as he contemplates my answer, glancing at me briefly before he lights it, knowing full well it's against the rules of Xavier's school, knowing full well I don't give a damn…

"You've just made her a few easy bucks. It's all nonsense kid," he says through a puff of smoke.

I shrug, trying to act casual, taking another sip of beer as his dark eyes remain on me, fleeting over my body and causing me to flush as I find something of intense interest on the floor. I silently curse myself for allowing him to have this effect on me.

"Well?" he asks.

"Well what?" I've already forgotten what we were talking about; too busy trying to act normal under the weight of his gaze.

"What does the future hold?" he asks with a smile.

I open my mouth to answer but he interrupts, raising his hand in a gesture for me to stop, "Wait, let me guess…he's tall, dark and handsome, right?"

I glance up at him and he's grinning, a playful glint of amusement in his eyes. I know he's teasing me, trying to make me blush, successfully I might add. He must know about the damn uncontrollable crush I have on him…

"Actually no," I reply truthfully, just about able to hold his gaze, "Tall, _fair _and handsome."

"What?"

A genuine look of confusion shadows across his face, his brow furrowing deeply.

"That's what the old lady said," I reply with a shrug.

Silence settles as he considers this, taking another long swig of beer, swallowing deeply. As he rakes a hand through his untamed hair he finally breaks the silence, announcing,

"Well that just proves its all nonsense."

His voice is filled with certainty and now it's my turn to stare in puzzlement.

"How do you work that out Logan?"

"Darlin'," he pauses, before taking a step towards me, his intense eyes burning into mine, "Would you describe me as fair-haired?"

My breath hitches in my throat as I search for the amusement in his eyes, the hidden laughter, but there's no sign of it. My mind races as I frantically seek the meaning of his words and I can only come up with one interpretation…

I open my mouth to respond but nothing comes out. God knows I must look ridiculous with my jaw hanging open, my beer suspended mid-tilt. I can't even pull together the coordination to blink.

He takes another step closer and he's only inches away now, so near I can feel his body heat and I'm certain he can hear my heart beating wildly. Hooking a finger under my chin he tilts my head up to his, his eyes darkening to an inky black.

"You just need a few more years on you Marie," his words are husky, full of sincerity, "Then I'll show you just how wrong that fortune teller is."

As our eyes remain locked he sweeps his thumb lightly over my lips, the slightest of touches and yet a most intimate gesture, causing an uncontrollable quiver to creep up my spine.

Taking a step backwards he swallows the last mouthful of his beer and turns to leave, casually tossing the empty bottle into the bin as he passes it, acting like he hasn't just turned my whole world upside down in an instant.

I stare after him, incapable of moving and unable to find any words as he stops briefly at the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder, that sexy eyebrow hitching again, "Until then darlin'," he says with a smile, "Stay clear of blondes."


End file.
